God's Will
by Darth Kieduss the Wise
Summary: On their flight home from Paraguay (2x17), Tony and Kate are shot down over Venezuela. While Kate deals with survivors' guilt, Gibbs and his team must fight the bureaucratic red tape and politics to rescue Tony and bring him home.
1. The Heaven Shaker

**Set after "An Eye for An Eye".**

VENEZUELAN AIRSPACE  
ATLANTIC OCEAN COASTLINE  
MARCH 30, 2005

Tony lightly snored as the plane taking them from Paraguay to Guantanamo thundered through Venezuelan airspace. The plane had passed the ocean coastline when Kate looked up from her magazine to look at Tony's slumber.

"How the hell does he do that?" Kate wondered. "He's just like Gibbs."

"Gibbs would totally out," Tony muttered. "I'm just resting my eyes."

Kate snickered. "Tony can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," Tony yawned.

"I'm curious, what brought your family to the States?"

"Mussolini," Tony said. Kate raised an eyebrow.

"Oh you want more?" he teased.

"Yes. Obviously. Did il Duce buy your family a ticket?"

Tony chuckled. Smartass girl. "My great-grandfather, Vito, had an uncle who was a...'man of honor'. Things got pretty bad for anyone associated with the Mafia after Mussolini came into power. Mussolini sicked his black shirts against the mafia, but also adopted a policy of guilt by association, or in Vito's case, guilt by blood. Basically, you could have lived a crime-less life and never broken the law. But if you had a relative that was a criminal like we did, Mussolini considered you guilty. It's kind of like DC comic Bane suffering for his father's crime. My great-great grandfather, Antonio, figured that Vito would either get drafted or locked up...or worse. So he sent Vito to America in 1933. Vito drove a truck for $2 a day until he was able to start his own transportation company."

"What happened to Antonio?" Kate asked.

"He was too old to make the trip. Crippled by arthritis or something. I don't know, I wasn't there. Mussolini had him arrested. He died in jail. Mussolini had him buried in an unmarked mass grave, buried along with other capitalists, communists, mafiosos and those who disagreed with 'Il Duce'."

"I'm sorry, Tony," Kate said, deeply concerned. "I never really kept track of my family history. Never really interested me."

"Yeah. It's fine. We've all got our stories. Our interests."

When his father told him about how the DiNozzo family came to the states, Tony was saddened. Tony never got into politics because of the story.

* * *

Down on the ground, there was a Venezuelan beach house, used by the local drug cartel. Inside where half a dozen cartel members. The boss was counting money from a recent business deal when a guy came running in.

"Jefe, hay un avión americano por encima," one cartel guy shouted. "Puede que el gobierno nos haya encontrado. Jefe, qué hacemos?"

"Dispara hacia abajo, cabron!" the Jefe shouted. Another cartel member came out with a shoulder-launched FIM-92 Stinger missile launcher.

"Disparar!"

"Ay guey...Vaya con Dios, americanos," the guy said as he lined up the target. When target was locked, he pulled the trigger. The missile launched itself out of the launcher. A second later, the rocket inside ignited and zoomed itself toward the C-130. The infrared homing system guided itself towards the target effortlessly.

* * *

Tony had almost gone back to sleep just as the calm before the storm ended. A rapid buzzer sounded in the cockpit. The captain looked down at his radar screen. A little blip blinked on it.

"What the hell?" The captain said. "Radar tracking, 6:00."

"Warrior, this is Alpha-Bravo-Nine," the co-pilot dispatched. "We have been targeted by a surface-to-air missile. Hang on back there!

"Flight control, execute evasive maneuvers!"

"Did he say missile?" Kate asked.

"I'm afraid so," Tony answered.

"What do we do?"

"The only thing we can do, Kate. Strap yourself in...and pray."

The pilots turned to port, desperate to avoid the deadly stinger coming at them. The missile kept coming.

"Coming up on our right!" the captain said.

"Breaking left. Launching flares!"

A push of a button caused the whole plane to shake as white hot flares shot out of the plane, a loud droning noise announcing their launch. The flares were often called the Angel Flares due to the characteristic pattern. The missile fell for the trap and exploded in the storm of light.

"Missile dispatched."

"Shit, we've got another one coming in," the captain called. "We're out of flares. Breaking right!"

Before anyone could respond, the second missile hit home. Like a steel battering ram, the missile ripped into the cockpit, exploding on impact. The C-130 was shattered. Both men in the nose section were instantly killed as it separated from the fuselage. The nose was briefly held on by a band of metal but facing aft, like the lid of a can. It then sheared off, up and backwards to starboard, striking off the No. 3 engine.

Then hell began for Tony and Kate. What was now going on in this unpressurized plane was catastrophic shaking, noise, screaming, yelling, metal groaning and breaking and...violence. Total violence.

Tony winced as the the outer-most part of the left wing snapped off and the plane began spiraling towards the water. "Hang on, Kate!" he shouted.

"I am!" she screamed back, desperately praying that the plane would hold itself together. That's when the rest of the left wing ripped off, propellers on the two engines still churning. The force ripped Tony's belt and he was thrown forward. He slammed into the wall right next to Kate.

"Tony!"

"I'm alright, just stay where you are!" Tony shouted as he grabbed a hold of the netting with one hand and crossed himself with the other. He prayed, _Dear Lord Jesus up in Heaven, please protect us._

Then an aileron ripped itself clear. Debris began tearing themselves off the dying aircraft. Tony's hands gripped the netting tightly as the plane spiraled closer and closer to the water. He again silently prayed for their lives. The aircraft groaned once again before the right wing broke off, separating between the two engines. The plane's spiraling increased. Tony grabbed Kate's hand. Kate squeezed his hand hard.

"Oh, my God," Tony whispered as the water grew closer and closer. "Hang on, Kate! This is it! Do not let go of my hand!"

With Tony covering Kate with his body, they both closed their eyes as the aircraft finally made contact with the water.

* * *

When Kate woke, she was under water. The plane was below her sinking. Somehow, the force of the crash must have ripped her seat belt and sent her out of the cabin. Without thinking further, Kate immediately rushed for the surface. Her only thought at that point was survival. Her vision was starting to darken. Lungs nearly-bursting, Kate took the deepest breath she had ever taken when her head finally stuck out of the water. Good Lord, Virgin Mary and a grilled-cheese sandwich, she was alive. The water was freezing. It felt like a thousand knives stabbing all over her body.

Kate felt as if her head been sliced in two. Her head ached and reeled from the experience. There was a loud ringing in her ear. She looked around, trying to find her colleague. Last she knew, he was right next to her, covering her body with his own. But he was no where to be found. A life jacket floated to the surface nearby. Kate swam to it and grabbed a hold of it. Not much of a safety device or a raft, but it was all she had to stay afloat.

"Tony!" she called. "Tony?! Where are you?"

Unfortunately, she received no response.

Hearing a noise, Kate reached for her gun...only to realize she didn't have a gun on her hip. Piece was probably sinking to the bottom now. A yacht was coming to her. It was a Venezuelan fisherman.

"Señorita, estás bien?" someone called out.

"What?!"

"Lady, you okay?" the man said in broken English as he rowed out towards her. He leaned over and stuck his hand. Kate gratefully took it and was hauled into the boat. That's when he caught sight of the wreckage, some of which was still floating. The fisherman crossed himself. "Dios mio."

Kate turned to see what he saw. Where they had approximately crashed, debris was everywhere. A wing there, a propeller there, a window there. The tail was sinking slowly, sticking up high in the air, groaning as it slowly slid beneath the waves. A small oil fire lit the night sky. Kate fell to her knees on the boat's bow and uttered only one word through her tears.

"Tony..."

 **Review.** **Ever have that moment where you're like, "Man...I fucked up"?**


	2. Not One Word

Tony landed in the water hard and the shock of its coldness traveled up his body faster than his body could sink into the water. But he was still in desperate trouble. With his heavy leather jacket soaking with sea-water, he was going down. His body sank beneath the surface, sucked down by the wreckage of the plane. He was going down to Davy Jones' Locker.

His eyes came open. From his view beneath the water, he saw something above the surface. It was only in his mind, but that made it no less real...an orange glow, the warmth of the sunset, and her face above the surface.

Tony couldn't die here. Not now. He had to live. For her.

Tony's limbs came to life, and he fought his way up. He kicked his way up. He kicked and swam. He summoned all his strength to reach the top. Breaking the surface, Tony gasped loud enough to wake up an entire neighborhood. The whole sea around him was freezing, dark and empty, but he grabbed a life jacket and held on for dear life...and for Kate.

Tony's body drifted. He kicked off his shoes, shed the badass leather jacket. He continued to drift to the shore, his body shaking convulsively from the cold.

Eventually, he hit mud. He made it to the beach. When he got to the dry sand, his body no longer trembled. He had lost consciousness. He had no strength, no will to live. His face settled into the sand. His body was still. An hour later, Tony came to...

Tony shivered as he woke. Was it from the memory of the frozen water, from the emotion wanting to see Kate again-or both?

He became aware that some men were approaching him. Tony tried to stand but he was weakened by the freezing cold. Tony managed to raise his head to look at his rescuers. But he realized they weren't his rescuers. They were wearing ski masks and carried AK-47s.

"¡Creo que está muerto!" one guy said.

"¿Es él?"

Tony groaned. He couldn't believe his luck. Shot down and captured. _Fuck my life._

"¡No, sigue vivo!" the man corrected.

"Habla espanol, americano?" another man asked.

"Se un poco de español," Tony asked. "Tu es cartel, si?"

"Si. That will do," the man said. He preceded to smash Tony's face with the butt of his Kalashnikov. Tony felt blood in his mouth before everything faded to black.

* * *

Kate did not say one word as she was flown home. For half the trip, the Boeing 767 was escorted by two US Air Force fighters. When the Boeing approached Cuba, the fighters peeled off and went back home to their carrier. Some passengers had been worried but the flight attendants, without revealing any details, told them that someone very important was on the plane and therefore required an escort. That was all they told them.

Did Kate have anything to say? Any tears of sorrow? Perhaps, but she didn't say a word. Not on the flight to America, not when the plane stopped to refuel in Miami, and not when the plane landed in Washington, DC. Not a word. Who could blame her?

A woman tried to talk to her during the flight. Kate didn't respond. The woman wasn't offended. She could see the shock in Kate's eyes. She let her be.

Kate held her rosary beads and Crucifix in her hands the entire flight, silently praying. She looked out the window as the plane landed. Inside the waiting area at the airport was a familiar face. For the first time, she spoke.

"Gibbs."

Kate came off the plane approached the old fox of a marine. They didn't hug or embrace. They simply looked at each other for what seemed like hours. After what was really ten seconds, Kate finally let out the emotions that was bubbling to the surface. She collapsed in his arms, letting the tears fall. Gibbs held her tight as she cried in his shoulder.

"He's gone, Gibbs," Kate sobbed. "He's gone."

Gibbs didn't say anything. Kate couldn't see it, but a lone manly tear ran down his face as well.

 **Sorry it's so short.**


	3. You Will Break

**Warning: Torture.**

When Tony finally awoke, there were several things of which he became aware. First, he was cold. Second, he had been confined to a cell. Third, his memory of the past few days was very hazy. The fourth thing he noticed, of more dire importance than the other three and succeeding them in realization by only a few seconds, was that he had no idea where the hell he was. There were a few other things he noticed, too, like the damp, musty smell of the cell and the aching hunger in his gut and the dull throbbing of one spot on his back, but he figured he should take one thing at a time. Fifth, he was tied to the wall, his arms spread out as if he was about to be crucified. He was hanging at a 45 degree angle. Why, he did not know.

While Tony was worried about what would happen to him, he wasn't worried about his fate overall.

Tony had been taken hostage before. This was no different from any of those times, and since he had gotten out of all of those situations he was sure he could get out of this one, too. That moment wasn't right then, however. It would happen, but not now. His body hurt all over. Today, he wasn't going anywhere.

An explosion erupted outside. Irrelevant.

 _It doesn't matter whether I escape or not,_ he thought. Because they were going to find him. They did with that batshit crazy Vanessa chick. They would do it again. It would be fine. It would be okay. _Gibbs will find me. He always does._

 _But what if he doesn't?_ the nagging voice in the back of his head asked with an imaginary pessimistic sneer.

The torture proved to be his greatest enemy, and maybe his undoing. The first time, they didn't ask any questions. A VZ man said in broken English, "You will break American."

The cartel bastard had a red-tinted whip. An almost razor-thin whip that carved deep cuts, precise enough to slice through his clothes and wound his chest. He bit back all grunts and clenched-teeth screams every time the lash struck. He would not give _any_ of these fuckers have satisfaction over him, even if it meant his life.

"You will break, American!" the man shouted again, swinging the whip harder and harder.

Tony didn't dignify that with a response, as blood dripped down his chest and onto the floor. He was clenching his teeth so hard to keep from screaming. His eyes couldn't close shut any more than they already could. Sweat coated his head while tears ran down his cheeks.

He hadn't realized he had blacked out, but when he opened his eyes he was alone and everything was back to normal but he still felt...unsettled. Violated. Alone worried scared sad helpless. Awful.

* * *

WASHINGTON DC

It was raining outside. It was a somber moment in the squad room of NCIS. Everyone was gathered around the screen that sat between McGee's desk and...Tony's old desk. Well, now it was McGee's desk but one got the idea. On the screen was a picture of Anthony D. DiNozzo Junior, trademark DiNozzo grin flashing to everyone. A little table also sat between the desks. A photo of Tony sat on it behind three shot glasses. In Paraguay, Tony and Kate had asked a local to take a picture of them in front of a banana wagon. Their smiles warmed the room.

The entire NCIS team was there. Gibbs, McGee, Abby, Ducky, Palmer and Director Morrow. Anthony DiNozzo Senior had come as well. Caitlin Todd was standing inbetween the desks with her back to the screen. They all held a shot glass full of bourbon. Gibbs stared at the photo of the man who was practically a son to him.

McGee had lost a brother. He hated it, but he would miss Tony pranking him, teasing him and torturing him with movie references.

Abby knew Tony as long as Gibbs had and she was already silently shedding tears. She couldn't believe our fellow Italian was gone. She would miss him a lot.

Kate...

Kate didn't know what to think. She couldn't figure out what Tony was to her when he died, but she knew that he was her friend and her partner. She absolutely _hated_ it when Tony would go through her stuff and invade her personal privacy...and his man-whoreness. But she loved everything else about him. The confidence. The hair. The grin. Hell, she even loved his knowledge of movies. She was impressed that Tony was able to do a ton of work with the least amount of effort. What was it he said? "Work smarter not harder, Katie."

Tony was always willing to drop his antics to help a friend or coworker when the situation called for it. He was always calm and cool during a firefight. He was fit, strong. Fuck it, he was sexy too.

"To Anthony DiNozzo," Kate said, desperate to hold back the sobbing she knew would eventually bust out later that night. "The best Very Special Agent," this got some mournful grins from everyone, "and the best...friend...I ever knew...or ever will know."

Everyone raised their shot glasses.

"To Tony," Kate finalized, raising her glass shot than downed it. Everyone else followed suit.

The rain was still pouring when Kate got back to her apartment. She hadn't slept in about three dadgum days. Wiping her hand wearily over her red eyes, Kate dropped her coat off and headed for the bedroom. Putting on a night gown, she lay in bed for hours without sleeping. Then finally, the tears came out.

* * *

Tony shivered. However, it's wasn't cold. It was the middle of the day and Venezuela was always hot, even during Christmas time. Tony had been there for so long, for all he knew, it was Christmas morning.

A man came in. He was not entirely elderly but he was getting along in them years.

"I am Eduardo Gomez. I'm serve under Comrade Chavez Bolivarian Intelligence Service."

"Does it look like I care?" Tony said, spitting some blood at the floor.

Gomez smiled, then nodded to a guard. The guard slammed his fist into Tony's stomach

"Listen to me, American. I exist only to protect Venezuela. That is sole purpose for which I was born. And every action I take, no matter how violent..."

The man sent the whip slicing into Tony's chest. Try as he might, Tony couldn't keep the scream in, but managed to make it come out only through his teeth.

"Or how cruel, was for the greater good of my people. And now, because of you Americans and your _capitalism_..."

There was no hiding the venom in the former agent's voice as he punched Tony's jaw. That was gonna swell up in the morning. Gomez grabbed Tony by the jaw and forced him to look into his evil eyes.

"I have no people. In the 1990s, you Americans gave my country to greedy gangsters and diseased prostitutes. You have taken _everything_ from us." He pulled a knife and held it in front of Tony's eyes. "I will make sure you stay awake long enough to feel every single cut. Your death will be beyond excruciating. You will _suffer_ as we have suffered."

 _Kate? Where are you now? Are you lost? Are you okay? Will I find you again? Are you alone? Are you afraid? Are you searching for me?_

 **Humans are awful even at the beach.**


	4. God's Will

**To imagine how Tony is positioned in his cell, see how Alistair was positioned when he was tortured by Dean Winchester in Supernatural, Season 4, "On the Head of a Pin" (minus the Star of David and other religious symbols haha).**

DAY TWO  
OF CAPTIVITY  
VENEZUELA

The complex restraining apparatus held Tony upright against an angled platform in his dark, miserable cell. Tony woke slowly from the sound of dripping water. Disorientated, Tony at first suspected he was dead. He realized that if he was dead, he'd be in a place of peace with his ancestors, not the same hell he left the world in. Tony thought he was alone. But he realized he wasn't when he saw Gomez. Gomez did not move, make a sound and barely seemed to be breathing for what seemed like an eternity. Even the dim fire of the two candles Gomez had brought hurt Tony's eyes after so many days in the pitch darkness. Tony knew, from personal experience, that a wrong word, an unsatisfactory response, could set him off. _Be very careful with this fucker_ , he told himself.

"Comfortable, Senor DiNozzo?" Gomez asked.

"Oh yeah," Tony said through blood stained teeth. "Add a chocolate mint under my pillow and it's a five star hotel."

Gomez smirked. "Your will, and your wit, is strong, Agent. Stronger than most I've ever encountered."

"They don't call me _Special_ Agent for nothing."

"Senor DiNozzo," Gomez said as he flicked a needle. "I must apologize for the treatment I showed you yesterday. When I get angry, I tend to, as you Americans say, 'Lose my shit'."

"Well, you might want to rethink your technique," Tony said as he spat some blood.

"Senor DiNozzo, I'll be frank with you. I did a lot of terrible shit here in Venezuela in the name of this country and Comrade Chavez. Shit that will haunt me for the rest of my life. But I did it because I believe in the fight. I believe in what she stands for, _Dios y Federación_. I believe in the welfare of the people. You capitalists believe in private ownership of a nation's means of production. But so many times, the people are screwed by the capitalists only concerned with making more mon-"

"I don't care. I hate politics. But I'm an American. So you can take your socialism, shoot in in the face, and _skullfuck it_."

Gomez smiled. He swept his eyes over Tony, held fast to the platform by restraints at his wrists and ankles. Tony leaned forward when Gomez spoke, and he held his head up now. Whether to look him in the eye or simply to demonstrate that he would not break, Gomez didn't know. But it would put strain on his shoulders and neck.

"I'm impressed, senor," Gomez said, coming closer to Tony. "It's been two days. Two _excruciating_ days.. And yet...no one has been able to get out of you what I want to know. Usually, people have the decent break by now."

"Well, as I said..." Tony coughed. "you might want to rethink your technique."

Gomez smiled again. "We know there were two of you in that plane, besides the pilots. We found the pilots' bodies, but found their remains to be of no use to us. My patience is running thin. Who was the other person with you? What was your purpose here?"

"Like I'm going to tell you," Tony scoffed. He knew that was provocative, but he didn't care. He was in too much pain and too pissed off to care. "All I gotta tell you is my name, rank and favorite cereal."

"Maybe, I use some of them truth drugs so much that you'll be begging to me what I want to know, hmm?"

"Except you know that won't work, or you would've done it already."

"You are many things, Senor DiNozzo," Gomez said, turning his back to Tony as he paced. "But stupid is not one of them. Cocky. Arrogant. Full of yourself. But stupid? No. I will have to contact my superiors to see what I will do with you. Until then, I believe some company with old friends of mine will do you some...good."

Gomez tipped his hat and left as two Venezuelans, one of them who looked like he hadn't shaved in years, came in, cracking their knuckles.

When the torment finally ceased, for the moment at least, Tony was left in his cell, bloody, beaten, abused...but not broken. For once, they left him on the ground instead of shackled to the wall.

"God," he prayed. "Oh, God, send Michael down here to lend me his wings. Please, lend me protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil...God, are You there? It's me, Anthony. I know I haven't really been to Mass in a long while. But I've never stopped believing in You, Lord. I'm not asking for a chance to sleep with Jennifer Aniston. I'm just asking, Lord, please..." he began to shed tears, "please just bring me home. Deliver me from this hell. My life is in Your hands now, Lord."

For an hour he just sat there in hell hole of a cell.

"Kate...Do you know I'm fading? Without you, I would fall. I know you're looking...for me."

A single tear fell to the floor, joining the pool of blood that collected underneath him. He knew she was out. He knew she was safe. Whether she was looking for him, he actually didn't know. He was just telling himself that. He had hope. He couldn't lose hope. But he was going to lose it eventually. Everyone on earth had a breaking point. _Everyone_. Even the legendary Leroy Jethro Gibbs, a bad-ass Marine who ate nails for breakfast (without any milk), had his breaking point. He was tired of it all. The needles. The punches. The pokes. The prodding. The electric shock. The water boarding. The cutting.

All of it.

But Kate would find him. He knew it. He knew Kate was out there.

"Underneath the cold Venezuelan sky...I'll wait...for you, Kate."

 _Mom, if you can see me from Heaven, shut your eyes. I'll be with you soon._

Closing his aching eyes, Tony went through a psalm. Tony knew little Scripture from memory, but this one he memorized because his aunt constantly recited it when he was a boy.

 _If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand be forgotten. Let my tongue cleave to my jaw if I fail to remember you, if I don't make Jerusalem my greatest joy._

Tony had only been to Jerusalem once when he was on a case during his first year as a NCIS agent, about a couple months before 9/11. But Tony replaced Jerusalem with his friends. He could imagine his right hand just vanishing if he ever stopped caring about his friends. If the Venezuelans didn't cut it off, of course.

"God help me...Lord Jesus, I am Yours. I commend myself to Your care. Whatever happens is Your Will."

This was the most Tony had ever prayed in his life. Even more during that close call with that girl back in Ohio State.

"God's will..."


	5. Mind Games

**_"United, there is little we cannot do in a host of cooperative ventures. Divided there is little we can do." John F. Kennedy_**

Tony tried not to scream. He had managed to remain silent so far, even after more than dozen lashes against his back. When the whip struck for the twentieth time, the first slice in his skin opened. It felt as if a thousand knives were slashing his back. He clenched his teeth as hard as he could to avoid screaming.

The interrogator had stopped asking questions after the fifth slash. Tony wouldn't talk. Tony's hands instinctively strained against the ropes, but they were tied too tight to break. Plus he wasn't Batman. With every blow the narco landed on his back, more of his skin was sliced open and the pain became more intense. He could feel blood beginning to trickle down his back and onto his legs.

He tired to ignore the pain and set his mind on the singular purpose of not screaming. The narco swung the whip against Tony's back for the twenty-fifth time, although Tony had since lost track.

"Do you enjoy getting whipped, American?" the narco asked in a sarcastic Broken-English shout. "Do you? Do you enjoy this? You bring this upon yourself with your silence."

Gomez stepped out of the shadows. "Enough, _cabron_. It appears Señor DiNozzo is being...how do you say in _Inglés_...uncooperative?"

The narco thug grunted.

"I'm sorry, Señor DiNozzo," Gomez said as he lit a fat Cuban cigar. "But you give me no choice to turn towards more... _alternative_ means of persuasion."

Between pained breaths, Tony noticed Gomez was playing with a coin in his non-smoking hand. He managed to speak. "Meaning... what?"

Gomez smiled as he took a hit off his cigar. "Do not worry, _mi amigo_. You will learn that I have been quite merciful this past week. However, if you don't give me what I want to know..." His smile faded. "You will find that there are some things _far_ more frightening than death."

Gomez took another hit of his cigar. He blew a ring of smoke into Tony's face only to then put the lit end into his shoulder. Tony didn't scream, but a great shout of pain through clenched teeth could not be maintained. It was hot. So hot it almost felt like it was scorching the bone. The stench of burnt skin swelled through the room when Gomez finally ceased his cruelty. When Tony managed to open his eyes, he noticed that the coin in Gomez's hand was a Kennedy half-dollar.

"I will return," Gomez said. "Hopefully, when I'm through, you will be more willing to relinquish what I want."

Tony looked down and through clenched eyes, laughed.

"Just so you know..." Tony spat some blood. "I've always hated that... dumbass suit of yours."

Gomez also laughed as he went towards the door.

" _Vigila el italiano mientras hablo con el camarada Chávez_ ," Gomez told the guard. The guard saluted. Gomez returned the salute and left.

 _Chavez?_ Tony thought. Gomez didn't know that the _italiano_ spoke fluent Spanish. So Chavez knew Tony was here. Or would know. Tony decided he should keep the fact he spoke Spanish to himself. The Venezuelans would think he only spoke English and might talk some controversial in front of him in Spanish, thinking the American couldn't understand them. This gave Tony the advantage. But was with that Kennedy coin? Didn't Gomez hate America? Did Gomez intentionally show the coin to him? Was he playing mind games?

"Lord, help me," Tony quietly prayed. He managed to open his aching eyes. "Lord, once again, my life is in Your hands. Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done... God help me...Please..."

His mind turned earth wards...

"Kate, underneath the cold April sky, I'll wait for you. As the pages of my life roll by, I'll wait for you."

Even if the light began to fade, he'd wait...for her.

MTAC  
ONE WEEK  
AFTER SHOOTDOWN

"Trust me, Gibbs, I'd like to bring Agent DiNozzo home, whatever his fate, as much as you do," Director Morrow told Gibbs. "But we have no jurisdiction in a sovereign nation which, may I remind you, is hostile to the U.S. Don't you think if old comrade Chavez had a federal agent of the United States government in his custody, he wouldn't be using Agent DiNozzo to his advantage as a bargaining chip right now?"

"Director, I'm aware of the hostilities," Gibbs said, "but with all due respect, DiNozzo deserves to come home. Alive or not. He's still my agent."

"We still don't even know where he is. I'm doing all I can, but..."

Kate sat in a seat, out of the conversation but still in hearing range. She hadn't said much. She was scheduled to talk to a therapist later day but she doubted it would do any good. Tony was gone and she was safe in Washington. The guilt ate at her conscience. Why didn't she hold on to his hand tighter? Would he be sitting next to her, assuring her it'd be alright, teasing her? Or would she be in the same situation that Tony was in. Where was Tony? Was he alive? Was he dead? What if Chavez's men had captured him. Or was Tony stumbling through the streets of Venezuela, trying to find a phone to contact for help? If only she held his hand tighter. There was nothing she'd like to do right now then hold his hand.

Kate was still lost in her little world when a firm yet gentle hand rested across her shoulder. Kate startled a bit only to look up at the Grey Fox named Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Kate struggled to not lose her cool. She sobbed a little bit. "

"Believe me, Kate, I know," Jethro soothed. He motioned for her to stand. "We're gonna bring him back."

"Gibbs, you promise me," Kate said through clenched teeth, her tears no longer being held back. " _Promise_ me we'll bring him back."

Gibbs brought her in his father-like embrace. "I promise you. Tony will come home. _We_ will bring him home."

 **Been busy with work, family, gf and some PTSD issues.**


	6. No Good To Me Dead

_**Italiacs**_ **means it's spoken in Spanish.**

ONE WEEK AND ONE DAY  
INTO TONY'S CAPTIVITY  
SQUAD ROOM, NCIS  
7:25 PM

"The GPS on the C-130 that Kate and Tony were travelling on was last pinged just off the cape of San Román," McGee said as he pulled up a map of the most northern part of Venezuela on the television. "At around 11:37 p.m."

"That's when we got targeted by the m-missiles," Kate input, nursing the bruises on her arms that were starting to heal.

"Right," McGee said. "As everyone knows, Venezuela is a socialist country that is very hostile towards the U.S., so any diplomatic attempts to have him-"

"I'm not interested in politics, McGee," Gibbs barked before sipping his coffee. "I want information. If Tony was captured, where would he be kept?"

"If he's been captured by the cartel or criminals, only God knows where they're keeping him," McGee said. He typed some keys. "Maybe a warehouse or if I go on generalization, a hut or something. The Venezuelan government tends to take bribes from them. In exchange for some negotiated number of petros from each gang or unit, the government tends to look the other way. However, if he's been captured by the Venezuelan state, as an agent of the American government, chances are he's being held here."

He brought up an image of a notorious prison. With its fence and guard posts, it looked like your ordinary penitentiary. It was a one story building with wear and tear.

"Maracaibo National Prison," Gibbs identified.

"AKA Sabaneta Prison," McGee continued. "One of Venezuela's most notorious prisons."

"How bad is it?" Kate asked, staring horrifically at the image.

McGee shook his head. "About what you'd expect. It's severely overcrowded, with inadequate access to medical care, food, and clean water. Violence among prisoners is common. From the few inmates who were released or escaped and the Venezuelan guards who've defected, it's almost as bad as a Soviet gulag."

Kate's lip quivered. Was Tony there? Was he being tortured? Was he...

Gibbs came over and touched her shoulder. "We're gonna find him. I promise you."

Kate shivered but nodded. Tony was going to be alright. They would find him and bring home. Just like they did that Vanessa psycho. Of course, he was in an _American_ sewer, not a Venezuelan prison.

"Kate, go home."

"Gibbs..." Kate protested.

"I'm not asking," Gibbs said. "Go. Come back tomorrow."

"But..." A look shut her up. "Fine."

Ducky for some reason appeared. "I'll take her home, Jethro. I was on my way out anyway."

"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs said. While Kate was keeping an eye on her, Gibbs pulled Duck aside long enough for him to whisper, "Keep an eye on her, Duck."

Ducky chuckled. "Not to worry, Jethro. Caitlin is in good hands." He called out to his charge. "Are you ready, dear Caitlin?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Kate answered as she slung her purse over her shoulder.

VENEZUELA  
TWO WEEKS INTO CAPTIVITY  
MARACAIBO NATIONAL PRISON

Tony had just about had it with this shit. The whippings, the beatings, the electricity, the insults. But what he hated most was the attempts to persuade him to socialism. Gomez was always going on and on about socialism vs capitalism. Gawd, Tony hated politics more than Gibbs. The most political thing Tony ever did was vote for Al Gore. And that was just because Wendy wanted him to. Besides that one time, Tony never voted. Every system was full of corruption. Sure, a revolution was made by people from time to time to end it, but eventually the revolutionaries themselves or eventually the system would become corrupt. Politics was a game where no honest person could win.

Today, Tony found himself with both of his wrists chained to the ceiling. He was wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. They had allowed Tony to change into a clean pair of shorts. Government provided shorts. Not even a month in Venezuela and Tony already had his first experience with Venezuelan socialism. Probably made by some 6 year old in a sweat shop.

Tony strained against his only restraint. Not that he had any hope of getting out of it, but so that he could reposition his wrists so the blood flow was cut off. He looked down at his feet. For some reason, his feet were put in two empty buckets. Tony had an idea what the VeeZees had in store for him, and oh boy, it wasn't good.

Gomez came in, looking like the Venezuelan Colonel Sanders. Following him were four men. One of them was pulling a hotel cart full of equipment and a gallon of water.

" _Set it up,_ " Gomez told his subordinates. One began to unpack the equipment while the other got the water jug. Three of the _putos_ began whipping out cords and hooking it up to the power outlet. The shortest one bent over to put the plug it. It sparked at first, shocking the man. He cursed in Spanish so hard Tony raised his eyebrows.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth, _amigo_?" Tony said. His smile fell short went the brute of the group punched him in the groin. "Someone needs to develop a sense of humor," he wheezed.

"Hurt?" Gomez asked through his cigar.

"Oh, no," Tony said through strained coughs. "Me and Jose are just having a laugh."

"It's Jorge," the man barked.

"Ooh, touchy," Tony teased. After a moment, he got the courage to look at Gomez. "This isn't gonna end well for me, is it?"

Gomez shook his head. He got out another cigar. "Not unless you all of a sudden find the will to tell me what I wish to know."

Tony just stared at him. Gomez knew Tony wouldn't talk. "It is your decision to remain silent, _Senor_ DiNozzo. You only bring this on yourself."

Jorge lightly poured some water into the buckets. They were filled up to where the water met Tony's toes, but didn't go above his ankles. Some wires were connected to Tony's chest, connecting with the machine on wheels. Gomez started undoing his belt.

"Woah, buddy," Tony whistled. "I may be open to new things, but I don't swing that way. Especially when I haven't been wined and dined first."

Gomez smiled as he approached. "Relax, _cochino_." He indicated for Tony to open his mouth. "You know what's gonna happen. So open up."

Tony complied and allowed the leather belt to be placed in between his teeth.

"Just you that while I am cruel, I am not completely without mercy." He turned to his subordinate. " _Set it to the first setting. Let's warm him up first._ "

The man smiled.

"You have two choices, _Senor_ DiNozzo," Gomez said. "You can tell me the matter and detail of your mission in my country, freely and without omission. In exchange, I will recommend to my superiors for you to be released to your government. Or you could refuse and you experience more of what your government on innocent people in... _What is it called in English?_ Damn it...Gitbay?"

"Guantanamo Bay," Tony corrected through the blockage of the belt.

" _Yes,_ Guantanamo Bay," Gomez said. "You Americans. You claim to be the arbitrators of freedom and justice and yet you conveniently toss em aside when your cowboy hillbilly president thinks it'll benefit him. Anyway, since you refuse to be truthful with me, you leave me know choice."

Gomez nodded to Jorge. Jorge turned a knob on the machine then pressed a button. Tony's body convulsed, his head arching upward. His hands closed into fists and he groaned, as current shot through his body. Tony's teeth bit so hard into the belt his molars almost touched. There was no way he could hold his screams this time. The electricity tore through Tony's insides, looking for ground. Made worse with the water, the pain was unbearable.

After several minutes, Tony's will was starting to fade. Tormented beyond reason, betaken of a weakness that drained his very essence, he hoped for nothing more than to submit to the nothingness toward which he was drifting. Although it would not have seen possible to Tony, the electricity seemed to have increased in intensity. Jorge had been increasing the voltage.

"The American is no good to me dead, Jorge," Gomez said calmly, casually taking a puff off his cigar as if he was watching a television show. When the electric current was finally stopped, Gomez was grabbing Tony's neck, he gently removed the belt from Tony's choppers. "My patience is growing thin, American, so tell me, What actual flying fuck was your mission?!"

Tony looked at him. Blood seeping through his mouth, Tony just smiled at him. "You...can't... get anything... from me."

Gomez growled in frustration. He was about to put the belt back in Tony's mouth and prepare to torture Tony a bit more when his cell phone rang. Gomez swore a bit then pulled out his flip phone. While Tony struggled to regain his vision, tried his best to listen in. His ears were pounding from the Palpatine treatment, so he couldn't hear the whole conversation. Tony gathered it was a superior, given by the way Gomez only spoke when spoken to and was looking down. There was a lot of "Si, Senor"s. He could tell the superior was disappointed that Gomez had learned nothing.

" _I understand, sir,_ " Gomez said. " _I will do as you command. Yes, sir. Vive Venezuela."_ Gomez hung up. "Congratulations, Agent DiNozzo. You've been given a reprieve. I've just received orders from my superiors. You're being transferred to the general populace of the prison."

"Oh great," Tony said, spitting some blood. "I get to make some friends."


End file.
